New Perspective
by xunyuu
Summary: After eight years, Harry suddenly runs into Draco at a local park in London. Needless to say, both have changed considerably and Harry decides that everyone deserves a second chance. Perhaps it was time that he looked at Draco in a new perspective...
1. Eight Years

When it comes down to it, people don't actually change much; it is how we perceive them that change over time. Thinking about it this way, perhaps everyone deserves to be looked at from a new perspective. In fact, maybe that's what it really means to be given a second chance. Upon seeing the quiet figure sitting alone on the park bench, solemnly scanning that morning's newspaper, Harry thought just that.

Eight years. For eight years, the green-eyed boy had seen neither hide nor tail of his old high school rival. Eight years. It had already been eight years since the great Battle of Hogwarts. Eight years since the defeat of the Dark Lord. Eight years.

He hadn't noticed.

Maybe time really did fly…or maybe it just stood still.

"Hey," said Harry, stopping in front of Draco.

Draco looked up. His icy gaze seemed weary. As recognition dawned on him, his eyes widened and his shoulders stiffened. He didn't reply.

"Nice day," Harry supplied in a light tone. It was a classic conversation starter for someone who wasn't even sure why he was attempting to start a conversation in the first place. "Peaceful times we're living in," he added, nodding at the paper. He noticed how tightly Draco was clutching it in his hands; the whites of his knuckles were clearly visible.

After another moment of awkward silence, the blonde replied, "Well, yes, considering how the front page headline is, 'Miracle Dog Saves Cat.'"

Harry cracked a grin. "What, no smirk? No snide remark complimented with a hearty sneer?"

A sigh escaped Draco's lips. "We all have to grow up, Potter, but I'll gladly send you off with a curse if that's what you want."

"No, no. That's quite all right. Where have you been anyway? None of us have seen you since…"

Again, Draco shrugged. He seemed so…un-Draco. Who was this person anyway? Harry couldn't help but feel a bit unnerved by conversing with the 'grown-up' Malfoy. There was but a faint trace of the air of arrogance he had worn so well for many years. Is this what time could do to a person? Could someone really change so much in just eight years?

Eight years. Wow. It really had been eight years…

"Here and there," replied Draco, attempting to appear nonchalant. "I've been doing a lot of traveling…been thinking about…stuff."

"Well, tha—" Before Harry could say another word, a high-pitched beeping sound began to emit from his coat pocket. He reached in and produced a small cell phone. Upon flipping it open, a white box flashed and a message appeared:

11/11/06 11:40 PM

MEET RON AND HERMIONE FOR LUNCH.

BE THERE BY 12.

DON'T BE LATE.

"Bloody hell…" Harry muttered under his breath. The restaurant that they had planned to meet at was a half and hour away and Hermione couldn't stand tardiness. "Look, Draco, sorry about leaving suddenly like this, especially since I'm the one who started the conversation, but Hermione is going to have a cow if I'm late. Er, here."

Without much thought, Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. He quickly scrawled something at the top of the newspaper Draco had been reading.

"What's this?" inquired Draco as he eyed what Harry had scribbled down.

"My number. Call sometime if you ever feel like sorting out old differences and whatnot." Replied Harry in a hurry.

He bid Draco farewell and dashed down the pavement, wishing that he could simply Apparate to the designated location. But alas, there were Muggles around and that just wouldn't be quite the right thing to do.

-x-

"—so then I sai—Harry," Hermione said, interrupting herself. "_Harry._"

"Huh, what?" Harry looked up. He had apparently been poking a meatball around his plate, drawing pictures in the spaghetti sauce.

"Honestly, Harry, we haven't seen each other in a year and you're off in your own little world!"

Harry smiled weakly. "Sorry, Hermione. I guess I'm a bit distracted."

"Well, I'll say!" Ron cut in, tomato sauce splattered on his chin. All those years and he was still a bit of a messy eater. "You'd better start payin' attention, mate, or else Hermione's going to levitate you to the top of the Tower of London."

"It'd have a nice view, wouldn't it?" interjected Harry, smirking a bit.

"We really should check that out some time," said Ron, smiling.

Hermione sighed and shook her head, her curls gently falling to frame her face. "Ron! Will you please wipe your mouth? And Harry, what's on your mind?"

Harry couldn't help but glance at her wedding ring. It had already been a year since the two had wed. In fact, it was at their wedding that the trio had last been together. They were a happy couple, as one might expect. The two had been busy settling into their new home and Harry had not wanted to intrude, especially since Ginny had been at their new house quite often…or so he had heard.

Ginny. He didn't want to think about her now.

"Yeah, tell us." Ron was saying and Harry snapped back into reality.

"Oh, er, it's nothing really. I guess I'm just a bit out of sorts since I saw Draco today…" Harry admitted, resuming his picture drawing.

"Wait, what did you just say? Draco? As in…Draco Malfoy?" Ron exclaimed, practically spewing spaghetti all over the place.

"Ron! Manners! Honestly…" Hermione sighed. "But I'm going to have to agree with Ron's reaction on this, Harry. Did he say anything to you?"

"No, actually, I started the conversation, believe it or not."

Ron and Hermione glanced at each other.

Ron spoke first. "Why? Why would you want to talk to that backstabbing, Voldemort-hugging, sniveling coward?"

Now it was Harry's turn to shrug. "I don't know. I just felt like it. He's changed a lot, you know. Malfoy has. A lot…nicer. No, perhaps just more polite. He's just grown up. We all have."

"Well, sure, but that doesn't make him any less of a bloody Bludger!" Ron exclaimed, pointing his fork at his friend. "It'll do ya more harm than good getting near to him."

"Yeah, you're probably right."

"He _is_ right, Harry," Hermione cut in. "Just think of all the terrible things he's done to you. To all of us. People might change, but Malfoy's a bit of a different case…"

"Barely human!" muttered Ron.

"I'll keep that in mind," Harry said. He was suddenly very tired and he didn't know why. Desperate to change the subject, he added, "Anyway, how have you guys been doing?"

Hermione smiled. "We've been absolutely lovely!"

"But Ginny hasn't." Ron suddenly said rather bluntly.

"_Ronald_!" Hermione all but hissed. Upon noticing Harry cringing, she said, "Harry, she's just having a hard time moving on, but she's doing fine! You know, she's been working on furthering Muggle relations lately! Really quite active in all those sorts of organizations. Personally, though, I think that she's just trying to fill that void…"

"Well don't give me that look!" Harry exclaimed exasperatedly. "_She_ broke up with _me_! Remember?"

"Well, mate, you weren't exactly being all lovey-dovey with her." Ron said with a mouthful of garlic bread. "You were so caught up with all that Auror business that she felt neglected! Or so she said."

Harry held his head with his hands. One hand instinctively went to his scar, the mark of The Boy Who Lived. Although it had been eight years since he had last felt any pain from it, old habits die hard. Any time he would get a headache, his hand would automatically go to the lightning bolt upon his forehead.

"Look, it's not like I wanted to make her feel lonely! I mean, I completely supported her when she went to live with Bill and Fleur for a year! How do you think I felt?" he sighed again. There seemed to be a lot of that going on lately. "Never mind," he checked his watch. "We'd better hurry if we still want to catch that movie."

He'd think about all that later.

Right now, it was too irritating to deal with.

However, for some reason, one thing – or rather, one person – was still on his mind.

Try as he might, he was unable to push their encounter out of his head.

And that…that was the most irritating thing of all.


	2. Self Reliance

Paris. Milan. Greece. Moscow. Beijing. Delhi. Sydney. Auckland. Rio de Janeiro. New York. Colorado. Iceland. And back to London.

After the war, Draco had devoted himself to traveling the world. He had broken it off with Pansy for her own good. After all, he had been branded as a traitor to the wizarding world. A full-fledged Death Eater who had shamefully groveled at the Dark Lord's feet. His actions had resulted in the death of his favorite professor and he had betrayed his school, only to flee with his parents when the battle actually started.

He was worthless. A scumbag.

A coward.

He had run away. Away from Pansy. Away from his peers. Away from his family. Away from all the responsibility he held. Experiencing the different lifestyles of all the places he had visited was yet another method of escape. While he would admit to hiding in alcohol a few times, Draco was at least able to say that he had never succumbed to any other sort of drug. He was not addicted. He did not wish to become reliant upon some sort of mind-numbing substance in order to escape reality.

He wanted to face reality.

For once, he worked to be able to rely on himself.

Living alone in a small, but comfortable, apartment, Draco had learned to enjoy the peaceful life. Nothing really happened, but that was perfectly fine with him. After all, he had had more than a fair share of excitement. His life had fallen into a routine: wake up, prepare for the day, eat breakfast, head off to classes, lunch, classes, study, classes, dinner, homework, read, go to sleep. Occasionally, he might find the time to watch some television or to go take a walk in the park. Perhaps he'd sit upon the dark green bench located under a lone Rowan. The tree was the only one of its kind in the park and was not native to the area. Where it came from or how it got there was beyond him, but Draco had always felt a sort of connection to that tree.

He realized how dumb that sounded: a connection to a _tree_ of all things? And to the lonely outcast in particular? How peculiar.

But was it really?

Draco had discovered that he and the tree had quite a bit in common. Neither could fit well into their environment; both had been branded as outcasts by their communities. Draco was loathed in the wizarding world and he had come to avoid it as much as he could. At one point, he had even given up practicing magic altogether.

And then he discovered the Rowan.

It had been the first week of his return to London. Six years had passed since the battle.

Draco had purchased the apartment he was now living in at an earlier date, and after a week of hard work, he had had everything organized in his new home. Happy to be freed from his tasks for the moment, Draco had decided to go on a stroll in the park. He would start classes at the university the following week and he wanted to have some time for relaxation before the hectic life of a college student could overtake him.

It was then that he stumbled upon the dark green bench littered with leaves from the isolated tree. The tree was completely alone with no others of its kind, yet it was thriving. Its leaves grew fully and its branches reached toward the sky, uncaring of its position of solitude.

Perhaps Draco had been desperate for a sign. Perhaps he had been looking into something too much in hopes of being able to connect himself with someone, or something, again.

Or perhaps he really had not been abandoned by whatever greater power was out there.

Perhaps it really was a sign.

A sign to move on.

An entire year would pass before he found out what the Rowan tree stood for. He had been taking a walk, heading for his usual bench, when he came across a group of teenaged students all wearing matching Environmental Club tee-shirts. An older woman was explaining some Celtic folklore about the Rowan.

"It represents self-reliance," she had said, and Draco could still remember her voice. She had a strong, clear voice, despite her age. "The Rowan symbolizes control of your own life and protection from the control of others."

Self-reliance.

Control.

Protection.

Draco had waited until the club had left before walking up to the tree. It was at that moment that he had decided that their meeting really was a sign.

Draco then started to use his magic again. He realized that by giving up magic, he was giving up a part of himself. He was also showing that he was too worried by what the rest of the world thought, thereby indirectly allowing them to control his life. Well, there was to be no more of that!

He had been rusty, of course, but with practice, he had easily regained his skills and had even managed to improve. He began to work hard on his own and stopped trying to run away when things became tough.

So, when another year passed and he looked up from reading the paper only to stare into the face of the person he had wanted to see the least, Draco took it as another sign. After all, they had met beneath the Rowan tree.

Out of nowhere, Harry Potter had come into his life again. He had approached him in a friendly manner and joked with him as if they were old friends. He had even left his number.

Draco, now lying on his bed, stuck his hand up above him. He held a slip of paper between his thumb and pointer finger. There were two lines of numbers on the slip, and the young man knew that he wouldn't ever forget the meaning of those simple digits.

The printed line was the date: 11-11-2006

Directly above it, written in a nostalgic handwriting, was Harry's phone number.

Draco frowned and clenched the paper tightly in his hand, crumpling it in his fist. He rolled onto his stomach and thrust his clenched hand under his pillow.

_'Like__hell__I'll__call.'_ He thought bitterly to himself.

Calling would mean reliance. He knew that he wanted to be able to talk to someone who had gone through much of what he had. And there was Mister Harry Potter, extending his hand to a damn coward. Well, there was no way that that coward was going to take that hand. He had learned to rely upon himself, after all!

He wouldn't allow Potter to lead him around like a dog.

He wouldn't allow himself to rely upon the warmth of his hand.

He wouldn't allow himself to brace his fears upon that man's steady shoulders.

No.

He would not give Potter, or anyone else, control over him.

His life belonged to himself, and only himself.

Self-reliance.

That was the key.

Everything else would simply hurt.


End file.
